


Fantastic Mr. Fox

by travellinghopefully



Series: Jamie and Malcolm [2]
Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Explicit Language, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-15 03:10:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4590783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/travellinghopefully/pseuds/travellinghopefully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>follow on from Monogamy</p><p>does Jamie get the Sunday he planned?</p><p>I think the tags give you all the hints you need.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fantastic Mr. Fox

Jamie rolled over and groaned in frustration. He threw his head back into the pillow and swore.

Malcolm was already up. 

Could the fucker not just sleep and after last night, how could he move?

He realised he could hear shouting – 6.37 a.m. Sunday morning and Malcolm was ranting. Fucking marvellous

He staggered downstairs and found Malcolm in the kitchen, newspapers open over every surface. Two pots of coffee, but no evidence of any food. OK, there was a crumpled, empty bag, that might have held doughnuts. What time did he get up? Had he had any sleep?

Malcolm was working his way through his most inventive vocabulary, gesticulating furiously (unable to keep his hands still even on the phone).  
He was dressed in a ratty old fleece and jeans that sat low on his too thin hips.

Jamie eyed the tantalising strip of back that was revealed and decided there was generally only a very fine line between very angry Malcolm and very aroused Malcolm. Licking his lips, he placed a firm kiss on Malcolm’s skin.

Malcolm actually jumped and turned around. He gave Jamie his best stare of death and continued his call. 

OK, this called for drastic measures.

Malcolm had turned back and was running his finger down an article, outlining in detail what was wrong with it and what the editor needed to do to redress the matter.

Honestly, what editor in their right mind took a phone call from Malcolm? OK there was the faintest possibility that he might be feeding them some information that they would never get their hands on, even with phone tapping, prostitutes and fake sheiks. But really, even journalists must have families?

Enough. 

Jamie moved behind Malcolm, crowding him, breathing against his ear. He took his earlobe between his teeth and gently pulled down. He traced Malcolm’s ear with his tongue and gently blew against it. He flicked his tongue against the spot just behind his ear. He nipped and sucked and planted tiny kisses along Malcolm’s jaw and down his throat. Malcolm didn’t stop him and did, in fact, grind his arse very decidedly against Jamie. 

Promising, very promising.

He still hadn’t stopped talking, and there had been no break in the flow of invective, no hiss, or moan, or gasp. Malcolm still had far too much control.  
He reached a hand round and slid it into the front of Malcolm’s jeans. No boxers and already semi-hard. Jamie stroked his hand firmly up and down him and then withdrew his hand. 

He waited.

He recited as much of the liturgy for Mass in Latin, as he could remember.

Malcolm turned round, never pausing in what he was saying, unfastened his jeans and let them fall to the floor.

Jamie licked his lips and curled his hands into fists at his side. 

And still he waited.

Malcolm put one hand over the mouthpiece and said, “Come on love.”

Jamie stepped forward, and sank to his knees, running his fingertips down Malcolm’s thighs.

He nuzzled against him, breathing him in. 

He kissed the inside of his knee and bit gently into the crease at the top of his leg, alternately sucking and gently massaging the spot with the tip of his tongue. 

Malcolm’s hips shifted, and his free hand settled in Jamie’s hair. Pulling and flexing.

If last night had taught him nothing, he knew patience was a virtue. He had to take it slow if he wanted to have Malcolm writhing under his touch, if he wanted him to end the fucking phone call.

He ghosted his mouth along Malcolm’s now fully hard length and sat back. He freed himself from the confines of his pyjama bottoms and concentrated on his own arousal. Holding Malcolm’s gaze, never shifting his eyes from his face he began to work himself. Shamelessly thrusting and bucking and moaning, putting on as much of a show as he could manage and this fucking ridiculous hour on a Sunday morning.

Malcolm licked his lips, as much of a crack in his armour as he was ever likely to show. He stepped forward, towards Jamie, putting his hand back in his hair and bending to kiss him ferociously as he listened, or seemed to listen to whatever the editor had to say. 

When a response was required from him, he stepped back and resumed the conversation without pause.

Jamie groaned and shook his head in frustration.

It was just a little bit tempting to finish, leave Malcolm and go back to bed. 

NO! 

The cunt was not going to frustrate his plans. 

Plus, it wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility that Malcolm was teasing him, that there was no phone call, that he was just doing this to drive Jamie insane (admittedly he could hear the insect like buzz of the other voice). But, if anyone knew that Malcolm could be a Machiavellian manipulative fucker, Jamie did.

Jamie stood and pulled Malcolm’s fleece up and over his head. There was a moment’s flailing as Malcolm struggled to keep hold of the phone and avoid being beheaded. Jamie made up for what he lacked in finesse with boundless enthusiasm. 

Almost perfect, he had Malcolm naked and hard, how difficult could this be?

He kissed along Malcolm’s prominent collar bone, over the ridges of his shoulders and then down his chest. Pausing to suck and bite one of his nipples, clasping his arse tightly with his left hand. He just about detected a slight hitch in his breathing.

He dropped to his knees again, using the discarded fleece as a welcome pillow and noted Malcolm had stepped out of his jeans and kicked them across the floor. He returned his attention to Malcolm’s hips, kissing and sucking and marking him, sinking his finger nails into his glorious arse. He continued to place wet, soft, open mouthed kisses all over him – without moving to where he knew Malcolm wanted him. 

He paused and let his head just rest against Malcolm’s thigh, willing himself into a state of calm. He rubbed himself against his lover, kissing him repeatedly and murmuring soft and tender endearments. Malcolm’s hand returned to his hair, his fingertips digging into his scalp. Jamie wrapped his arms fully round Malcolm and hugged him tight.

He could feel the heat of Malcolm’s cock twitching against him, and the evidence of his arousal dripped down his chest. He trailed his fingers through Malcolm’s pre-cum and wrapped his hand back around his hard length. He applied firm, slow pressure, allowing his wrist to twist just so when he reached his head. 

Another slight hitch in Malcolm’s breathing.

He allowed himself a small smirk, making sure to keep his head down. He licked his lips again and applied his mouth to the task. He very carefully closed his mouth over Malcolm’s balls and sucked as lightly as he could. He felt Malcolm begin to squirm, and his hand tightened in his hair. 

Flattening his tongue he licked broad stripes from base to tip and then he moved his head away and resumed kissing Malcolm’s supple stomach and taut thighs.  
He was fairly certain that Malcolm groaned. He moved one hand back to touching himself and allowed himself the luxury of getting close to the edge before returning his attention back to Malcolm.

He took the very tip of Malcolm’s cock into his mouth and swirled his tongue over and under and round. Teasing him like the very best ice cream cone and rocking back on his heels to make eye contact with his lover.

Malcolm turned his phone off and threw it in the direction of the sofa.

Victory was his!

He took Malcolm fully into his mouth and sucked and licked and kissed. He used his hands and his mouth. He gently caressed his balls, cupping them and rolling them between his fingers and very gently pulling. 

He felt Malcolm start to lose it, he felt his uncontrolled thrusts, he felt the tremors in his legs, he heard the increasing frequency of his moans. 

He fucking loved this, he fucking loved him. 

..................................................................................

Slumped on the kitchen floor next to each other, Malcolm’s head on Jamie’s shoulder. Breathing quietening, sweat cooling and drying.

“If you didn’t just live on coffee, your cum might just taste better.” Placing breathless kisses on any bit of skin he could reach.

“If I didn’t feed you, you’d be dining from a skip.” A playful cuff to the head.

“You cook chicken for the fucking fox in the garden.” A snorted laugh.

Malcolm shut Jamie up by kissing him.

“Bed?”

“Aye.“


End file.
